I'm Not Waiting On A Lady
by NicoPony
Summary: Gambit and Courier have a thing goin' on, and of course, Rogue jumps to the wrong conclusions.  Stupid, yes.  I accept the blame.


Answer to fic challenge number 2 on the Gambit Guild Message Board. Please join, we'd love to have as many Gambit lovers as possible!

This story takes place some time in the unforeseeable future, after Endangered Species/Messiah Complex and whatever that entails. Forgive the strange use of pronouns. At least when you see "hir" or "s/he" you'll know I'm referring to Courier, Jacob/Jackie Gavin, Jr.

I'm Not Waiting on a Lady

Remy LeBeau knew he had a penchant for trouble, but this time it really, truly wasn't his fault. Or maybe it _was_ his fault. It was so hard to tell anymore. In any case, he'd likely be found at fault, guilty or not. Trouble with Rogue was certainly the last thing he wanted. Having her bawl him out in the middle of a crowded sidewalk in downtown Manhattan was also at the bottom of his list of things to do.

"Rogue, I can explain," he began. The statement didn't have a particularly innocent-sounding ring to it. It sounded more like something a guilty person would say.

"Is this going to get ugly?" Jackie asked.

Bobby looked back and forth between Rogue and Remy. "Oh yeah," he replied.

"Uhm...I think I'm going to take a cab," Jackie said nervously. "One of the ones. Way over there."

"I think I'll join you."

The two cowards slunk off, unnoticed, as Rogue began to wind herself up.

Remy had to resist closing his eyes in anticipation of the oncoming verbal onslaught. He wondered if there had been anything different he could have done to avoid this particular moment. Looking back, he couldn't think of anything he might have said that wouldn't sound completely unbelievable.

_Two days ago._..

Remy was at a dead end. Quite literally. He was sitting on the grass inside the hedge maze just outside of the X-Men's home. The students usually used the maze for training, but classes were over for today. Even if they had been training, most everyone knew this was a dead end and avoided the area. Solitude was generally hard to find at the X-Mansion. Remy intended to take advantage of the quiet moment for as long as possible. He was laying on his back, ankles crossed, enjoying the sunshine. His head was propped on a stack of magazines, recently procured from the mailbox at the end of the driveway. He was looking at a Martha Stewart Living magazine article. A recipe for banana cream pie. Trust Martha to make even the simplest of desserts into a thirty-two ingredient affair.

"A layer of chocolate between the crust and the filling...why didn't I think of that?" he murmured to himself. He was just reading the tips on making the perfect chocolate curls when a shadow passed over his head. It was the signal that his precious alone-time was at an end. Not wanting to be caught reading Martha, he tucked the magazine at the bottom of the stack and grabbed the next one he could find. One of Bobby Drake's girly magazines.

He unfolded the centerfold just as Rogue alighted on the grass a few feet away. He looked at her over the top of the magazine. She was standing with her hands on her hips, a critical look on her face. He dropped the magazine.

"I only read it for the articles," he told her.

Rogue opened her mouth to comment, and thought better of it. Instead she said: "Ah been wonderin' where y'got to. Ya went out for the mail near two hours ago."

"I suppose I got distracted," he responded.

"Ah can see that," she said, a wry smile twisting her lips.

"Sorry, didja want your mail?" he looked in the stack of letters which he had half-sat on. He surreptitiously shoved a small package behind his back. "Doesn't look like there's anything for you, unless you're the one who gets _Guns & Ammo_."

"No," she said, waving her hand in dismissal. "Ah wasn't expectin' any mail. Ah just wanted to talk t'you."

Uh oh, Remy thought, but he put on an interested face. "Oh yeah?" Unfortunately, his voice could only manage dread.

Rogue looked down and scuffed her sneaker against the grass. Strangely enough, she looked nervous. "Yeah. Ah was wonderin' if ya were free Friday. Ah thought we might go out t'see a show. Maybe get a drink after."

Remy was momentarily confused. It seemed as if Rogue was asking him out on a date. He suspected that he was undergoing another bout of temporary insanity. Or maybe it was Rogue who'd gone crazy. Again. He tugged an earlobe unconsciously. "Uhm, what?" he asked.

To her credit, Rogue didn't get irritated. The nervousness overcame her usual pique. "Ah wondered if you'd like t'go out. With me. Friday."

"Oh...," Remy began. "I can't."

Rogue stopped scuffing her foot against the grass. "What?" Her expression was one of confusion.

"I can't. I'm sorry, I've all ready got plans," Remy said. He was half-sorry and half-relieved to have an excuse.

"Really?" Rogue said, her face unbelieving.

Now Remy was feeling a little insulted. "Yeah," he countered. "I'm going out."

"Oh?" she said, suspiciously. "T'do what, exactly?"

Remy chewed the inside of his lip to cover his irritation. He wanted to snap that it was no business of hers, but she had been attempting to be friendly. He decided to take a different tack. "Me an' Jake have tickets to th'game Friday night, at th'Garden. Courtside seats. Y'understand, right?"

"Jake?" Rogue relaxed a bit. "Oh, that's nice. So, a guys night out, hunh?" she smiled with relief. He wasn't up to no good, after all. More importantly, he wasn't rejecting her.

"Something like that," Remy replied, scratching his head.

"That sounds like fun," Rogue said, tugging at the end of her ponytail. "So...maybe some other time, then?"

"Yeah, how about a rain check?"

Rogue nodded once and smiled. "Okay," she turned and began walking down the length of the hedge maze. She turned right, and vanished from view. She must have realized the was going the wrong way, since she turned around and walked in the opposite direction. Remy saw her walk by again, head down and face red. Then he heard her curse as she took another wrong turn. She let out an exasperated sigh and flew into the air and out of sight.

He slumped back into the grass with relief.

"Ow," he said, as he'd laid on the package he'd been hiding. He pulled it out. It was from the Courier, and was the reason he'd volunteered to go to the end of the drive to fetch the mail today. He wasn't sure why he'd bothered to hide it from Rogue. It wasn't as if he was doing anything wrong, at least not at the moment. Maybe it was because there was so little of his personal life that remained, well..._personal_.

Checking the sky to ensure he was once again alone, he opened the package. It contained a detailed account of the dealings of a powerful media mogul, his various enterprises, the location and architectural drawings of his place of operations, and the security system employed there. All the groundwork needed to pull off a successful pinch. Remy smiled at the documents. Courier was downright meticulous to the point of neuroticism. One of those Type A personalities. Remy was a bit more _laissez-faire_ in his lifestyle, but could appreciate the work that Courier had put in. He supposed that was why they managed to get on so well.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the X-Men, Remy had a lucrative partnership with Courier. It had started with Remy feeling a little guilty and somewhat responsible for what had happened to the shape-shifting mutant. Sinister had unwittingly turned Jacob into a Jacqueline, due in some part to Remy's mislaid plans. Of course, it was Sinister who had performed the unprecedented sex-change operation of sorts (if you don't all ready know, don't ask). It wasn't _entirely_ Remy's fault. But then M-Day came along and now Jacob was permanently female, having lost hir abilities to control hir molecular structure. The loss of hir powers had certainly put a damper on hir ability to get in an out of certain situations. Namely the procurement and transfer of information from the hands of one person to another. Otherwise known as stealing. That was where Remy came in. Courier spent hir time information gathering, Remy performed the actual theft (a.k.a. information transfer).

Remy was paid really well for his trouble. In truth, he would have done it for free. He would have done it mostly because he was helping out a friend. For Remy, friends were generally in short supply. Secondly, he was putting his skills to good use. Maybe 'good' wasn't the right word, but his abilities were certainly appreciated. Lastly, the work was fun. Jackie could do all the boring research stuff that s/he liked to do, and Remy could hang upside-down from wires and maneuver through laser grids and rob people blind.

Remy stuffed one of the schematics inside the girly magazine and lay back down to study. He could easily retrieve the pinch before the game on Friday. Remy smiled in anticipation. He canted the magazine to the side to better view the architectural drawing.

"Oh yeah, that's the stuff."

_Friday evening..._

Remy knocked on the door to Jackie's, formerly Jacob's, posh New York City apartment.

"Yeah, it's open!" Jackie called from inside.

Remy entered and scanned the open-plan apartment, with its huge floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed a portion of the New York City skyline. The apartment had been professionally decorated in a bright modern style. Jackie was standing behind the counter island in the kitchen, poking through greasy bags of take-out. Decorating and cooking were best left to professionals, in Jackie's opinion.

"Guess what I got?" Remy asked, concealing something behind his back.

"I dunno, how about '_a clue'_?" Jackie quipped without looking up from the bag.

"Oh, real nice. You think I'm gonna share wit' you now?"

"Okay, you big whiner, what is it?" Jackie said, walking from the kitchen towards Remy.

"Check it," Remy replied, producing a huge foam rubber finger, which proclaimed "#1!!!" on the front.

"Awesome!" Jackie immediately claimed the finger and stuck hir hand inside. "Hey," s/he said, looking at the foam rubber finger in confusion. "What's this?"

S/he extricated hir hand, pulling out a compact disc which had been hidden inside. "This isn't---!?"

"Ta-daa!" Remy waved his hands as if revealing a magic trick.

"I can't believe you got it so quick!" Jackie exclaimed. "How awesome are you?"

"Pretty damn awesome, if the rumors are true," Remy responded.

"Rumors you started," Jackie said, as s/he walked back to the kitchen.

"So when do I get my cut?" Remy asked, following hir.

"After I deliver the goods. It was thirty-seventy, right?" Jackie asked, pulling out white cartons of Thai food.

"Only if the seventy is in my favor," Remy said, claiming a set of paper-wrapped chopsticks and a box that smelled like green curry.

"In your dreams."

"My dreams only feature you, _ma ch__è__rie_," Remy said, setting an elbow on the counter and propping his chin in his hand.

"Dickhead."

"Dickless."

"Hey! That was below the belt!"

"Literally."

"I. Hate. You."

_Later..._

Jackie was one of those superfans who referred to the team as "we," as in: "_We_ played really well tonight," or "I can't believe _we_ lost!" S/he also screamed at referees, shouted both encouragement and profanity at the players, and heckled the mascots. S/he was prone to jumping out of hir seat whenever a point was scored, screaming things like: "Boo-yah!," "Here comes the boom!," and "Show me the money!"

Remy was mortified, especially when he realized that Jackie wasn't wearing a bra ("Do you have any idea how uncomfortable those things are!?"). No one else seemed to mind that an overly enthusiastic and rather attractive woman was jumping up and down (sans bra). The New York Knicks were playing the Cleveland Cavaliers, and it was a pretty exciting game. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, jumping, shouting and carrying on. However, Remy had to force Jackie into hir seat when s/he tried to pick a fight with the Cavs' Moondog mascot. The costumed dog and the she-male were dangerously close to throwing punches after the mascot had confiscated Jackie's foam rubber finger.

"He was looking at me funny!" Jackie insisted.

"He's a mascot. He's supposed to look funny. Now watch the game!"

The Knicks managed to lose in the last few seconds of the game. Jackie was practically ripping out hir hair by the roots. S/he was completely inarticulate with frustration.

"C'mon, let's get you a drink," Remy said, clamping a hand down on his friend's shoulder and steering hir out of the stadium.

"Robbed! We were robbed!" Jackie lamented. "I should've tripped that LeBron guy!"

Remy and Jackie joined the flow of bodies exiting Madison Square Garden. There was an overwhelming feeling of dejection in the air. Everyone was heading towards the nearest bar.

"Let's go this way," Remy said, breaking from the crowd. "There's another place down th'street that'll be less crowded." He had both hands on either of Jackie's shoulders and was ushering hir forward. Jackie plodded along, head down.

Remy's plan to escape the crowd backfired. At that moment, the show in the nearby theater let out. They suddenly found themselves surrounded by theater-goers, who were still entranced by their recent viewing of _Cirque du Soleil_. This was worse than dealing with the depressed sports fans. The theater-goers were roaming about like they'd just taken several blows to the head. They were still very confused by what they'd just seen.

Remy and Jackie were jostled by an elderly woman, who was clutching her program like it was a life-line. She exclaimed: "Wasn't the music _amazing_?" She looked high.

"Back off, lady," Remy told her, protectively moving Jackie away from the older woman.

They eventually parted from the crowd. Taxicabs were lined up along the curb. Some of the more clear-headed theater-goers had walked up the street, seeking a ride home in one of the cabs.

"Maybe we should just go home," Jackie said dully. "I can drown my sorrows in the safety and comfort of my own apartment. The last thing I need is for this night to end with me re-enacting _Girls Gone Wild_."

"Me and half of New York all ready got an eye-full," Remy said. "I think the Knicks City Dancers were about t'recruit you right then and there."

"You're really the paramount of hilarity, you know that?"

"There's a cab, c'mon," Remy said, grabbing hold of Jackie's arm.

They reached the cab almost at the same time as another couple. "That was the _gayest_ thing I've ever seen," a familiar voice said.

"Oh, hush up. It was art," responded a Southern accented voice.

"Even Jean-Paul would've thought that was too gay for him. And I've seen him wear an ascot with a swimsuit."

"Bobby, you're impossible."

Remy drew up short, his hand on the handle of the cab door. Jackie leaned against the cab wept (or whined, as s/he was wont to do).

Rogue and Bobby paused on the sidewalk, looking at Remy.

"Are ya going to get in or not!?" screamed the cabbie.

"Uhm, hi," Remy said, suddenly feeling nervous, though he had no reason to be.

Jackie looked up from hir pity-party. "Oh, hey," s/he said. "You're Rogue, right? And Bobby?"

Rogue's eyes had zeroed in on Jackie. Jackie was smiling in a friendly manner, in the direction of Rogue's breasts. "Nice to meet you both," s/he told Rogue's chest.

Rogue turned from Jackie to Remy. Her eyes had darkened dangerously, and she was squinting a bit.

Uh oh, Remy thought.

"Nice t'meet you, too," Rogue ground out, her jaw clenched. Her eyes never left Remy's. "So," she said, "'boys night out,' hunh?"

"Rogue, I can explain," Remy began. Then his hands dropped to his sides helplessly.

"Is this going to get ugly?" Jackie asked Bobby.

Bobby looked back and forth between Rogue and Remy. "Oh yeah," he replied.

"Uhm...I think I'm going to take a cab," Jackie said nervously. "One of the ones. Way over there."

"I think I'll join you." Bobby slowly backed away from Rogue, as if she were made of nitroglycerin.

Once the two had fled, Rogue prompted: "Well?"

"Uhm..." Where do I start? Remy wondered.

"You lied to me!"

"I didn't!"

"You told me you were going out with Jake! That didn't look like any 'Jake' ta me!"

"But---that was---," Remy stammered. Even that sounded unbelievable to him. "Oh, to hell with this. It doesn't matter what I say. You wouldn't believe me, anyway."

"With good reason!"

"It's not as if we're in an exclusive relationship. Or any relationship at all, for that matter!"

"This ain't about that," Rogue retorted hotly. "This is about you and your inability t'tell the truth!"

"Tell th'truth, don't tell th'truth...what's the difference anymore?"

"So, is she the reason you've been sneaking off at night?

Remy considered this. "Yes," he replied emphatically. That really was the truth. Of course, he wasn't going to elaborate. That would mean telling her about the "information transfers."

"You really are a horse's ass," she snapped.

"What can I say, you bring out the worst in me," Remy said with a shrug.

"You'll get no argument here."

"Well, there's a first time for everything."

"Arrgh!" Rogue screamed, her fingers reaching out like claws, wanting a throat to strangle. People were openly staring at them now. This was even better than the circus.

"Hey, you two nutjobs get away from my cab!" the cabbie yelled.

Remy opened the cab door, grabbed Rogue and shoved her in. She squalled in protest. Remy followed her into the cab.

"You're sitting on me!"

"Shove over!"

"You kids better not bring your fight in here!" the cabbie said.

"Just drive!" Remy told him.

"Where to?"

"Someplace else, I don't care."

The cabbie growled and pulled away from the curb.

"Of all the stupid things ta lie about," Rogue griped. "Another woman? Gimme a break, Remy!"

"I told you I wasn't lying," he snapped back.

"You must think Ah'm pretty stupid."

Remy chose not to give his immediate retort to that statement. He was proud of himself.

"Don't you think we've hurt each other enough?" she continued.

"Sure, I'm plenty sick of arguing with you. But it doesn't help when you get all bent out of shape and start screamin'."

She took a few deep breaths through her nose to calm herself. "So, why'd ya lie? Ya think ya were protectin' mah feelings or somethin'? You could've just said you didn't want to go out with me."

Remy shook his head. "No, no that's not it at all. It's sort of a convoluted, unbelievable scenario in which identities are mistaken and chaos ensues."

Rogue sighed and slouched back into the seat. "Do tell," she said dryly.

Remy shot her a black look. "I will, but you have to promise to be patient."

Rogue considered him for a moment. "All right. That sounds like a fair enough trade. Me patient, you truthful."

"Like I said, there's always a first time."

"Fine. Didja want t'get a drink?"

"More than anything."

"Could ya pull over here?" Rogue asked the cabbie, who quickly complied. Rogue handed him a few bills and a sizable tip.

Remy tried to reimburse Rogue for his share of the fare, but she waved him off. "Ya can buy me a drink. Ah need to forget whatever it was Ah just saw at the theater."

"You didn't like the show?" Remy asked as he climbed out of the cab. Rogue followed him.

"Bobby and Ah share a similar opinion. Not that Ah'm goin' to admit it."

"Really? I thought it was fun. At least it was while I was doing it."

"What? You were in the _Cirque du Soleil_?"

"Yeah, didn't I tell you? I was one of those guys who could jump from pole to pole. I was a glorified pole dancer."

"Now I know you're lying."

Remy held the barroom door open for Rogue and she was ushered inside. "I'm not lying!" he replied as she passed under his arm.

She poked him in the side playfully. "Prove it," she said.

"Don't think I won't."

The door swung shut behind them, cutting off the end of their argument. There was relative silence until around three in the morning, when the two were forced from the bar by the owner. The squabbling continued down the street, during the long ride home, and finally to the doors of the X-Mansion, where they kissed each other good night.


End file.
